I took Nate out to dinner tonight at the local seafood shack/ice cream stand. For dessert, he wanted soft-serve vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. We had a brief discussion about the proper terminology, although we went around so many times that I can’t even remember who said jimmies and who said sprinkles. I guess I am marginally more likely to say jimmies than sprinkles, although it always reminds me of my college roommate Michelle. She told me that a jimmy was slang for a condom, and if you asked for jimmies on your ice cream in New York, you’d probably get punched just in case, even if they couldn’t quite figure out what the hell you were talking about.
Anyway, Nate was way more enthusiastic about the sprinkles than he was about the ice cream. Basically the ice cream was just a vehicle for sprinkles. He would carefully reach in with his fingers and pick up the sprinkles around the edge. Then he would place them on top of the ice cream so he could spoon them up.
He comes by this trait honestly; Sarah loved chocolate sprinkles, or jimmies, more than almost any food. Once, when Dan was visiting, he walked into the kitchen of our apartment in Salem and caught Sarah eating them with a spoon, straight out of the jar.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Not getting enough paraffin in your diet?”
I once had a Dutch roommate, and he used to eat the following snack: slice of white bread (preferably as white and non-nutritious as possible, i.e., Wonder Bread), generous schmear of butter, half-inch thick layer of chocolate sprinkles. I took a bite of it once and my head almost flew off from the blood glucose spike.
Also, the Dutch chocolate sprinkles came not in a dainty little jar, but in a box about the size of a Grape-Nuts box, so apparently the Dutch embrace the sort of sprinkle consumption that Sarah would have appreciated. You should take Nate to Amsterdam so he can try it.
(Btw, “jimmies” is definitely a New England thing. And it is weird.)
Man. I shudder to think what that would do to Nate’s blood sugar. I’d have to peel him off the ceiling.
My dad’s sister lives in Noordwijk, actually. I can’t remember if she’s ever met Nate. We’ll go over at some point, but it’ll be a few years yet. At the moment, I think he would rather starve than eat anything outside bland toddler fare (grilled cheese, chicken nuggets, and hot dogs). I have enough trouble keeping myself fed in Holland without having to convince him to eat weird food too.
Oh for the good old days of infancy, when he would put whatever you offered him in his mouth.
Must … fight … *harumph* … gag reflex … *loolaf* … induced by … thought of … *gguuuurglleumph* … Wonder Bread, butter and jimmies sandwich … BAAAAARRRRRRFFFF!!!